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 (nobody)...and 92 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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was walking along where i saw middle aged man in a volvo estate blasting guns in the sky by INXS, was quite funny |
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i lolled on the street today when i read fleetmouse's post about decapitation |
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im laughing at things i read on here alot and it just looks like im laughing at nothing when i have my headphones on |
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as you get older you will eventually be talking to yourself without trying to hide your lips moving ....eventually get into quite difficult debates with people from your past in the middle of the high street, and end up forgetting why you went to the shop and walk out with the basket in your arm. |
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when i was eleven or twelve and the first vestiges of insomnia were beginning to present, i lie in bed talking to myself. mostly in my head, but at that age, i actually spoke aloud to myself once i got sufficiently into it. then i'd notice and feel embarassed. then i'd do it again a bit later. one morning, mum asked me: "are you talking to yourself?" "yeahhhh sorry" she wasn't mad. she thought it was funny. less funny is, how, as she's gotten older, she literally never shuts up. she'll walk around the house saying, "i'm going to go put on the laundry now" to no one in particular. my dad likes to say "it's one half of the brain talking to the other." my mum can also remember pretty much every conversation she's ever had, going back years. like me. arguments can get pretty brutal |
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i have a decent moment from yesterday, but i'm not sure it'll be funny if i try and type it up. here goes i'm waiting in a gas station lot for my friend to buy cigarettes. i have fatboy slim on and i'm pretty into it. i am more or less alone. no cars left, right, or behind. just a lovely little bubble by myself. i've recently discovered that imaginging my leg as a standing wave allows me to stop paying attention to the individual movemen- the uglist fucking truck i've ever seen whips into the space to my right and joe farmer is gawking at me. concentration ruini- some lady in a silver car whips into the space to my left and jill barista is gawking at me. i am rather irritated, but i've managed to keep dancing. my car is still on. i notice one of norman cook's trademark buildups is about to crest, throw my car in reverse, and floor it. i fly backwards into an empty block of spaces and resume what i was doing. both (rather confused) people get out of their cars. they're so busy paying attention to me that they both almost crash into my friend simultaneously as he's walking out of the gas station. my car is not where he left of it, and all three of them look so incredibly fucking confused. i thought it was hilarious, but i'm not sure if physical comedy translates to internet post |
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sometimes its nice to let it out and exercise the old vocal chords. insomnia..how many hours do you get asleep per sleep session? |
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i laughed out aloud at three confused people and you watching them from a special perspective. |
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so itwas funny. |
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it would have been funnier if you'd seen it. it was all so quick -- less than ten seconds. in time to fatboy slim. you'd have think i saw it all coming and deliberately orchestrated the whole thing, but, nope. i didn't expect it any more than anyone else. thinking, reacting, and moving in time to a beat can have an odd sort of swing-set effect on reality. people react to your reactions and you react to their reactions (to your reactions) and if you doggedly stick to the groove, you get these sort of pied piper moments more and more often. never on-demand, just more often |
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sometimes its nice to let it out and exercise the old vocal chords. i was just out for a drive and a sing. insomnia..how many hours do you get asleep per sleep session? it's not that sort of insomnia. the atmosphere in my brain is often quite similar to the feeling of standing in the middle of a children's birthday party at chuck-e-cheese's. there's screaming and skiball and klaxons and all the normal sources of control and authority have crept off to the side: there is no control, here. it's a giant bouncy castle and a ball room and as such both kids and adults get a break from one another. did you know chunk-e-cheese's sells beer? this is why. the kids run rampant; the adults let it happen and nurse a beer. imagine trying to sleep in that. your options are: 1) wait until you have been awake for three days and could sleep on broken glass 2) completely tire yourself out to the point where you could sleep on broken glass 3) get drunk. i've quit drinking. once i do get to sleep, though, i generally am out for the count. i'll go eight, ten, fourteen hours. i try not to let myself sleep that much, though, because otherwise i'll be up forever and a day before i can sleep again. |
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I do that now, mumble with a basket in my arm |
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you should have shout this is a FBI investigation, nothing to see here mam, then took your trousers off and fellated yourself |
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elderly people sometimes do really loud farts in public and just go on as normal, like fart step fart step fart step, evacuate bowls whilst walking |
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i was sitting in a parking lot, eating a burger abstraction, and watching the seagulls. the seagulls are solidly, reliably entertaining in this parking lot. seagulls can move faster than you'd expect. they can move way faster than cars can. the seagulls are solidly, thoroughly used to the cars. bored of them, really... ...so, the gulls will reliably sit there until the very last second, and flap off unscathed. the best approach, i've found, is to pretend they aren't there. trying to guess their motions is futile; they can take care of themselves. solidly, reliably. terrified old ladies in RAV4s do not know this, and herein lies the lulz: granny gertrude sees the gulls -- oh no! birdies! -- and jams on the brakes. the gulls don't even flinch gertrude creeps ahead. the gulls remain immobile. many are still sitting. gertrude is increasingly nervous, and slows down. sensing weakness, three more seagulls fly in and land in front of gertrude's car. she comes to a dead stop. waits. more gulls. finally gets the hint. bites her lip and drives forward, praying. the gulls snoozily waddle out of her way and sit back down |
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moments after i witnessed a picture-perfect example of [above post], i was witness to something even more magnificent: joe the plumber rolls out of abstraction depot. there is an unusual energy about the gulls. unrest. they start to waddle towards the truck. joe the plumber gets to the edge of the parking lot. stops. gulls are rapidly swarming his car like fluffy adorable bees. they are, in truth, squirrels from hell. i have no idea what the fuck is going on joe the plumber gets all the way out of his truck. stands in the lot for a fraction of a second, gets in his car, and slams the door. a couple gulls take off. oh -- he was trying to shoo them off, i guess. the gulls, however, are already back. more are swarming. he floors it. the gulls take off in hot persuit, tailing his truck like little flying magnets. "oh," i think, "his truck must smell like shit." lol. |
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